This is exactly why all seniors should not be allowed out of their Jewish Community Centers without supervision. They are not only careless with their props, but it seems prone to a trigger happy existence once past Social Security age. 

 81-year-old geezer/actor, Fred Kellerman was accidently shot in the skull by his director and fellow pre-Baby Boomer, while rehearsing a light production of “Of Mice and Men”.

Apparently at the end of the play, the character called Lenny takes a bullet to the head, but fiction turned into reality when the Sarasota Senior Theater group prez forgot to check the status of the “borrowed” weapon before pointing and unloading a round at the frontal lobe of his wrinkly co-star.

Although Mr. Kellerman is not mad about the incident, he will miss part of his ear that was ripped off once the bullet bounced around his brain before exiting. Elias Blumenkrantz will resume the role of Lenny until further notice.

*All pre-purchased tickets will not be refunded. No exceptions!  

Smear Community News Flash!

*The Jackie Kennedy swim team will be competing in a 3 round, round robin tournament this weekend.

*Angie Jo Jo plans to name her next adopted child after another anti-depressant medication. Friends report that Zohar, Madix, Pax, Crash Palace, and the conjoined twins are super excited, but still mellow to be around.

*Laura Bush finally admits she has come to terms with a black woman moving into her White House.

*LinLo and Sam Update:

            Linds moves out, Sam on a Whack-a-Mole hunger strike! Smear doctors predict 6-10 days left to live.

*If you thought Oprah's eating habits were bad, wait til you hear about her sex life.

Smear Campaign's 2009 Horrorscopes

Aquarius: My sources say that this year you should really start to take your hair follicle count seariously. People are going to ask you very detailed questions so you best be ready.

Golf bags: The rash that plagued your swing last season will be explained when the sweatshop where your favorite spandex breathable polo was manufactured reveals that the material was actually 73% pepper spray glue. Shake that itch and pick up a new hobby. A farm scene dishware collection seems like a relaxing alternative to nine irons and sand traps.

Taurus: The liquid sweatpants revolution has finally come to an end with the dawn of this new year, and trust me, the world is celebrating your liberation from an elasticated waist. It's time to embrace the belt notch like the rest of us.

Cornucopia: The freshman fifteen you missed out on in your Bulimic years will be made up for when you achieve the regional manager position at Rick's Heart Attack Hamburger Hut. Monitoring the flipping, dressing, and serving of the infamous Defibulator Gut Buster Special is your true  calling. *Watch out for greasy liver spots after consuming the entire meal.

Japonica: Although abandonment seemed an issue in '08, have faith when I tell you that all will be rectified when your family returns to the Exxon in Nebraska and reclaims you as their own. I guess that after thirteen years of rearing your sour attitude and ungratefulness, they figured, what's five more years of teen tantrums and pint sized verbal abuse.

If everyday was like a waking lucid dream, and every interaction and situation was in the hands of this smear biatch, this is how today would go

*8am – Wake up to the curtains being thrown back by a very enthusiastic Richard Simmons, his skin tight jump suit sparkling in the sunlight. He would pipe, "Good morning my little American! Now, let's jazzercise!"

*9 – This hour would be dedicated to light aerobics and a hearty bowl of warm Grape nuts and hazelnut infused coffee.

*10am – After a quick mic check and a wardrobe change it would finally be the morning I co-host The View. Joy and I would laugh at Whoopi's mismatched outfit and berate Elizabeth for her shitty parenting skills. With some old fashioned bullying, we get Barbara Walters to admit that she is really a wax figure with a pulse. Her torrid affair with George Washington Carver is spilled in front of a stunned audience, who are quickly pacified with a free pair of Oprah's favorite socks.

*11am – Once my gig on the set is up it's straight to the beach where I lounge by the pool with Clarissa Darling and her friend Sam, who uses a ladder to enter and exit the scene about every 15 minutes. Her pet alligator Elvis goes missing for a bit, but is discovered passed out under a rock. Two bottles of Tequila are gone but the 90s dance party makes up for everything.

*12 – The lunch bell tolls. A patio on the veranda of a hacienda is converted into a cafeteria style buffet. Julie Andrews makes me tea and cheese crackers after all the steak fingers and cream corn are gone and we chat about my future. She encourages me to drop out of school and marry a prince. I contemplate, but soon realize that she is being selfish and wants to keep me down because who else is going to sing musicals with her while eating omelets?

*1pm – A power nap on a super fluffy bed and power scrub of epic proportions takes up the rest of my early afternoon.

The rest of the day to follow…     

For those of us who fell on Santa's naughty list this year, we would like to introduce you to a hot new holiday that celebrates the bad seed in all of us. From this day on, December 27 shall be known as Santa Sleeps, Satan Creeps Day.

            Today we intercepted a letter that truly embodies the spirit of this exciting new holiday.

Dear Satan,

            This year I feel greedy and all my wishes to come true, or else…

            First, I demand the de-baptization of all babies, Hell fire on Earth, and world humiliation. A stockpile of weapons of minor destruction is also desired.

            Since my lazy ass mom is too fat to roll herself out of bed and go rent me a video and dad is working on the chain gang again, a copy of 12 Very Angry Men in VHS format will have to suffice.

            Finally, the ultimate holiday gift would be the messy resurrection of Terri Schiavo. She's sucking up all the vegetable oil and it's really starting to piss me off! That is all.

                        Rotten Love,

                                    Nam Baby

   Listen up Smear citizens, are we really expected to trust and respect the fucking authority of some Ya-Who riding about on a goddamn suped up Segway? Hell no. Target police evoke more fear in our slimy hearts than you ever will.

    If you are going to tote the title of Texas Department of Public Safety, security guard division, at least have the decency to wield and intimidate with an iron stick, not a light weight podium on wheels.    

     rotten loof,

          mrph

So am riding my bike about when a car slows behind me. Assuming the driver is looking for directions or maybe a few kind words of encouragement, I come to a friendly stand still only to get a nasty shock in return.

Sure I've been flashed by a sloppy, sagging drunk in a sketchy park while trolling about smoking cigs with pals during study hall, and yeah, I've rolled up on a shriveled homeless dude taking a leak in an alleyway. There was even the one time on the bus when I saw a man in a tinted van next to me excitedly beating the bishop to what sounded like the theme of 'Grease', but he didn't see me so it wasn't all that traumatic.  

What went down today was one of those things that if given another chance, I would go back and lay some mad blows (that might not be the right word to use, but what the who-ha) and bows into this pervert. Gather all my resources and make him think twice about what his life had come to.

After I had come to a complete stop the car pulled up right next to me and inside sat a disheveled, pant less man begging or a hand job!

"You give hand job, baby? Come on lady, please… You could suck it if you want."

After I told him to fuck off and die he continued to follow, begging in his coaxing tone. By the time I reached the next stop sign he had shut his trap and was simply air jerking at his limp wiener.

WTF? Was this fool for real? What to do? So many questions and scenarios raced through my head. Finally, I set my bike down, kicked his car door with all my might and spit furiously into the window. This was good enough to send him looking for love somewhere else.

Note to all you perverts creeping about; don't mess with a Lady of Smear, cuz she might just spit in your ear.  

Moon Plot Prop

            Is the Earth's gravitational pull really starting to cramp your style? Does the weight of the world cause you to drag your feet about like a lazy Cuban? Do you wish life was one endless moon bounce with batteries included?

            If the answer is yes, yes and yes, we here at Smear would like to offer you a rare opportunity to purchase a moon plot in outer space. For 9,000 easy payments of $19.95, you too can claim a piece of the pie in the sky all for your very own!

            These spacious moon plots will allow for maximum recreational enjoyment for you and your family. Stroll the seasonal friendly Zooba-Face moon crater in Sector 3, or troll through the lovely Asteroid garden in the heart of the Moon's capital NASAville.

            So what if friends frown on your idea of easy living, simply tell them to suck it and embrace your outer space heritage, because if you wait too long these plots will be long gone. Come join us on the moon!

mrph     

What's worse than being embarrassed in front of your furniture? That's right my friends, furniture that embarrasses you. Of all the varieties of furniture and furniture accessories on the market these days the most loathed of all room decorations has to be the wicked wicker twig.

Not only does it leave uncomfortable skin indentions on the resting rump, but it is also an absolute burden on the eyes and ears. No one should ever have to hear their furniture creaking and cracking upon plopping on the provided comfort zone.

When something this annoying is suddenly an accepted form of decoration and relaxation we must find someone to blame for our troubles. Maybe the Amish are responsible; I mean they have been known to piece together some pretty hideous chairs and love seats in their time. The barbaric Vikings were never really known for their arts-n-farts-n-craft skills but they too may be to blame, due to their inherently rough exterior.  

As concerned Smear citizens we ask all who come in contact with the vile twig to burn, smash, throw, batter and rage until it is annihilated from any and all sitting areas, because a nation devoted to wicker is no place to call home.

Rotten love,

     mrph